The Legacy of Those Who Teach

By Mrs. Barbara Deutsch

On my husband Bob’s last day of school forever he wrote me this text as he was leaving. “Handed in my keys, ID badge, and parking tag, and finished cleaning out my locker. Also put my pocket Mincha/Maariv into sheimus.”

And so, after more than two years of reflection and COVID fallout, Bob bade a fond farewell to a bifurcated career in education.

When we were dating, Bob was the brooding writer who would one day accept an Academy Award for being a scriptwriter or at the very least a Pulitzer for his novel and hold the number one slot on The New York Times Bestseller list. All of these accolades worked for both of us.

We got married and he planned to go to a special writer’s program at San Francisco State College. Life was now going to be one big adventure. No more draft dodger yeshiva and the limitations of time not well served.

My mom used to often say, “A mensch tracht un got lacht; man plans and G-d laughs.”

Well, the joke certainly was on us since the student riots of the ‘60s in San Francisco shut down the schools and forestalled any plans of going to California.

Plan B, a scramble in late August, was to go to a newly created and innovative combined Writing and English program that would lead into a PhD and a job as a college professor; we were on our way. We would live in the Village and Bob would go to NYU, and I would continue at Hunter, majoring in education.

That all worked as planned until first Hunter and then Brooklyn College’s positions were eliminated and Bob wound up ABD (all but dissertation) and with no position. And we never got to live in the Village because with no one making any money and both of us still in school, what were we thinking?

Then came the three children – best thing ever – and the 20 drought years in which Bob worked in the family business and I worked in yeshiva, middle and high school, education.

Bob refused to work anywhere but in higher education, and I did not even try convincing him.

Hashem does work mysteriously, and we often do not see His hand or understand His plan.

To keep his mind engaged, Bob started to work, after the store closed, in Adult Education. The federal government subsidized chassidim who enrolled to learn English by incentivizing them with free health insurance. Bob loved it and came home with so many wonderful stories.

Bob also picked up a teaching period, before the store opened, at Flatbush Yeshivah in Brooklyn. So when the store closed, now with an understanding of how rewarding it could be to work with malleable willing teenagers (not!), he accepted a position at Ramaz and for the past 22 years has worked at DRS.

Watching from the sidelines his connection, understanding and compassion for his beloved students, I often regret those years lost to educating students while he was wasting his precious time selling jewelry. Yet, I think that that’s what made him appreciate his role as a teacher. And he is a great one!

One day, a while ago, we were walking on Central Ave when loud screaming and honking caught our attention. The car stopped and out poured a bunch of boys yelling, “Mr. Deutsch, Mr. Deutsch.” Two of the boys picked him up off the street, and the whole group carrying Bob sang and danced, holding him aloft.

Another time, on our way home from shul, we bumped into a young man dressed in a black suit, white shirt, tzitzis out, hat and carrying a large precarious pile of assorted holy books. “Mr. Deutsch, what have you been reading?”

Bob and his former student stood for over a half hour sharing thoughts on books they had both been enjoying.

Those images and so many more are forever burned into my memory.

Since his retirement announcement, Bob has received many platitudes and compliments including “my favorite teacher,” “best teacher,” “he cares about me,” “I love him.” One student even baked him a cake.

At a school tribute, a boy he didn’t even teach praised his accomplishments and listed his middot. Our grandson Elly, the only one he actually taught in DRS, told me, “Grandpa was my claim to fame.”

Despite counting the days to the very last day, Bob is melancholy and reflective. Though he came late to the education party, he will forever be in the hearts and minds of the students he has taught, known and loved.

That is the legacy of those who teach.

Barbara Deutsch is currently the associate principal at HANC 609 and a longtime reflective educator, parent, grandparent, and new great-grandparent. Even after all these years, she still loves what she does and looks forward to working with kids every single day.